I've taken a series of self-portraits this summer. Maybe I have a fear of losing myself. Or of losing my childhood, which I think is what a lot of this means.

I wrote a letter to my mother a couple of weeks ago, but never posted it. In it I wrote to her about the struggles we have both been through and how we will forever be in touch, if not in person, in spirit.

I told her how I lost Harvard this summer. One day while walking down Quincy St., I looked up and realized, "Hey, this place isn't all it's cracked up to be." For three years I have walked around feeling like an alien here and being awestruck by the architecture and grandeur of this place. I've been intrigued by the little old men who walk around here dressed like they're going out for a day in the country with their straw hats and seersucker suits. You know the ones I'm talking about. They often have moustaches, little rimless glasses and carry a cane. Bowties are their specialty. But this summer I began to put all of this into perspective. As I contemplate whether or not to write a thesis next year, I realize I have to do it for myself, not because this is Harvard and writing a thesis is what's expected. I'm also preparing myself emotionally to leave after next year. I have finally seen the bubble which surrounds Harvard.

It's like freshman year when I saw the bubble which surrounds my parents. It's a bubble of limitation, of boundaries, it's seeing my parents and Harvard for what I've always imagined them to be. I'm slowly seeing the world for what it is.

I turned 21 this summer, and I have a right to go anywhere. But just as quickly as the window of opportunity opens, it shuts. But I shut it under my own volition. I'm not ready yet. It's going to take a little bit longer for me to fly. So in the end, I guess I'm learning how to lose my childhood. I have stepped over the threshold from Blake's "Innocence" to his "Songs of Experience." Just give me a little time to get comfortable, then I'll really show you what I've got to offer.

P.S. --I lost a pack of cigarettes today, about 2:45 this afternoon. Camel Lights, Hard Pack. If anyone finds a pack with only one cigarette missing, none of them turned upside down, kindly return them to The Harvard Crimson, 14 Plympton Street, c/0 Loser. My health-nut friends, and maybe Elizabeth Bishop, would say it's a sign.